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 Aug 2013 River Raras
Briana4545
I lied.
  I'm not a truth-oholic
    Because I'm not even that honest.
  I'm just an angry drunk
    Who tells the girl who says "I love you"
      To shut up
    And the boy who says "I want to *******"
      To go away.
EMS
I was a Paramedic
I saved lives
Prolonged great inevitable grief
Witnessed the grotesque miracle of unexpected birth
And the ****** it brings
Sat on my *** became complacent
And depressed
Forgot to put into what was being taken from me
Over and over
I worked and came home to silence and destitude
I craved the excitement like a ******* would payday
I worked with the greatest personalities people that wouldn't back down
I had no gun
No hero complex
I used to be a Paramedic
I am broken.
Or at least that's what they've told me for years.
"No one will love you".
"You're pathetic".
Well I say "no".
I won't be labeled by black hearts.
I won't be tossed around like a restless body in the dead of night.
I will not listen to the blind's recollection of my image.
Its true.
They sting, they itch, they burn.
For everyone.
I cry and I cant stop.
I cant figure out
Who or what
These tears are falling for.
Is it stress
Confusion
Anger
Sadness?
I don't know.
All I do know is

I have eyes that burn.
Seriously
Please just spare me the misery
Talking to you, is like eating r a z o r  b l a d e s...
She
“Write about ***” I whisper to myself
“No. No, that’s disgusting” I respond with vigor
“Write about love.” I suggest in the condescending tone adults often take with me
But I do not want to write about love,
I have never been in love
I have never felt anything like love
I hate writing about love
I hate the pronouns
I always want to write about hers
About the smell of perfume on her dress
And the way her hair curls and twists like the plotline of an Oscar Wilde novel
I always want to write about she’s
And the way she never makes fun of my silence
And the way she laughs
And the way she cheats off of me in geometry,
Even though we both know my answers are always wrong
She’s like a triangle
A cute
But if I were a shape
I’d be obtuse
Because when  we walk to together in the hallway I always get the urge to grab her hand
But I never have
And  I want to tell her to take off her makeup because she’s just so perfect
And you know she cried last week and I didn't know what to say
I never know what to say around her
But she never minds, she can have a conversation with me and I never have to say anything
And some days it takes all my restraint
Not to write about her
And I want to write about how I love her
I want to write about the way I love her
But hatred always hits me in the gut
And pain in the face
And shame cripples my fingers
So that I can never write she
And when he comes out of my pen
I rip the pages of my failed poem out of my notebook
And cry
Because I can’t stand writing lies
 Aug 2013 River Raras
maisie khan
His silence discovered her, cutting in to her soul and revealing it to him. His ocean eyes
pull her towards him, begging for her lips, taste, touch. He found something
more in her. He was hers. She was his. But he kept his
distance, stopped his fingertips from touching her, tried to find a way of staring
at her without her noticing. Oh, but she always noticed, for she was staring, too.
Her heart craved him more than anything, he became a drug, a bittersweet
addiction filling her entire body. She needed those lips that felt
like ******, she wished he was a cigarette
so she could fill her lungs with him. His skin told a story
she'd never heard before, his voice was the record
she'd always listen to.

It was never enough for them. Despite the stolen touches in crowds,
or the bedroom eyes across the floor; they always needed more.
She wanted to kiss him more than she wanted her next breath.
He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his last breath.
But they couldn't touch, for he was a coward
and she was a liar
and they didn't know how to love eachother
without breaking eachother's hearts.
So they kept their distance,
pretended that they were never meant,
pretending their heart's didn't ache
everytime they saw one another.
For the sake of pride,
they could not have eachother.
He was somebody elses
and she a wandering ghost
still drowning in his ocean eyes,
still lost in him.
 Aug 2013 River Raras
Mikaila
Now
 Aug 2013 River Raras
Mikaila
Now
I know you're sad.
I know life has skinned you raw and raked you over the embers of despair.
But don't hesitate...
Dance now:
If not now, when?
It rains, the sky splits, the world heaves.
Dance now, because life will always hurt in the living of it.

You've lost, and the hole you learned to live with
But never to like
Echoes with cavernous emptiness.
Feel joy now, even if nothing is what you wanted it to be:
If not now, when?
Joy is brightest in the depths of sorrow.

The wolves circle, baying, and the moon glows venomous in the sky
It is dark down here
And you are alone.
Sing now.
Add your voice to the throng and raise up your spirit with theirs,
Energy and air and electricity in thorned ****** along your skin.
Let their savagery, their wildness
Wrap icy fingers around your heart
And fill you with the cold, clear freedom of loneliness.
Chorus with the wolves:
If not now, when?
Make your company of the land- one voice sounds like many when it rings off trees and skims frozen rivers.

Cruelty and disappointment abound
But life is vicious. It's true.
It is both hungry and beautiful,
Rough and gentle,
Like a tide that loves the seaside rocks smooth.
Love now.
Give your heart, however broken, scarred, or bleeding.
Give your heart fully and without fear.
Love now:
If not now, when?

Someone will always fail you,
Something will always hurt you.
Nothing will ever be perfect.
Stop waiting.
Be perfectly alive:
If not now,
When?
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